The Green Hornet - The Formula of Doom
by DARK KNIGHT of the MOON
Summary: With the help of a disgraced scientist, a grocer in Detroit thinks he can increase his business by adding a secret ingredient to the food on his store shelves. But when an accidental death occurs, The Green Hornet steps in to crack the case. Note: This story is patterned after the old time radio show. It is a Golden Age Green Hornet adventure.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **Detroit, Michigan in the summer of 1946**

The sun set slowly on the city of Detroit as an elderly man of slight build walked hurriedly into the Gray Street Grocery and Market.

"Just a minute, Sir. We are closing in fifteen minutes," a dark-haired teenage boy informed from behind the counter, pointing to the clock on the far wall.

"Nevermind that, sonny. I need to see the proprieter. It's an emergency," the old man huffed, nearly out of breath.

"Hold your horses, Gramps," the boy snarled before shouting towards the back of the shop. "Hey, Joe. Some old guy's callin' for ya'.

Just then the door to the back room flew open and a portly grocer wearing a blue apron and an aged face sauntered forward. "I told you not to bother me, Ray. We gotta get this shipment of ice cream from the truck into the freezer by closing time. It's liable to melt." The grocer wiped his hands on a towel and was noticably surprised as he saw the old man standing in front of him.

"What's the matter, Joe? I told you I'd come back sooner or later," the elderly man wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

"Professor Barton, I—. You have the stuff then? Did you bring it with you?"

"Yes, I have it. Now all that remains is to talk to you. And call me Doc."

"What's all this about, Joe? We close in fifteen minutes and I gotta meet Polly for a date at eight o'clock. It's Friday night for cryin' out loud," the youth spoke in an anxious tone.

"Mind your business, Raymond. Go sweep the floor." Joe ordered. "My friend and I have some urgent business here."

"But I already swept the floor three hours ago."

"Then do it again," the storekeeper shouted, grabbing a broom and dustpan from the wall and hurling it towards the boy.

"Joe, can we get down to business or are you going to play Pop to the kid all day?" The man called Barton was visibly frustrated as he stuffed his hankie into his suit pocket and straightened his suit.

"Yes, Doc, I'm sorry. Come into my office."

The two men headed toward the back of the store. They whisked past the food storage room where two more teenage boys were stocking ice cream into a giant freezer. They walked through a tiny corridor and came to Joe's office at the end. Joe opened the door to his office. Once he and Doc were inside, Joe closed the door softly and locked it with his key.

"Show it to me, Doc. Show me the formula." Joe barked with anticipation as he turned on the light.

"I have it here." Doc pulled a glass vial of dark purple liquid from the pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to his friend.

"You ripped this off of Hendricks."

"No, Joe. He gave it to me. After I put three slugs into him."

"What? You killed him?" The grocer couldn't believe his ears but was somehow relieved.

"Yes. Although my assistant was a brilliant chemist he was also a saboteur. As you may have heard, my company Barton Pharmaceuticals was seized by the government last year. Hendicks had been helping the Nazis develop experimental drugs since 1941. He went into hiding and continued selling his research to the Soviets since wars end. As his employer, the government held me and the company I built responsible for his treason."

"And did you try to explain your innocence? Did they even listen?" Joe studied the vial of dark fluid.

Doc Barton paced across the room as he continued. "I appealed to some bureaucracy, begged them to believe that I was unaware of everything. Rather than send me to the chair for treason, they took away everything I built. All of the company's money, gone. All our holdings and assets, gone. For nearly a year I have been a disgraced scientist and am living off of my own personal savings. I finally found Hendricks and earlier today I took my revenge. Then I remembered our arrangement, this formula he had cooked up and the deal we made with you so long ago." The elderly man removed his glasses and began cleaning them down with his handkerchief.

"Well, good then. One less thing to worry about. And you're sure this stuff will do what Hendricks claimed?"

"He tested it, Joe. We always said when the formula was perfected we could proceed with our plan."

"Okay, then." Joe smiled. "We can finally move forward. This new food additive will make anyone who ingests it addicted to it. I'll put it in everything on the store shelves. Folks'll come in here and practically beg me to sell them more food. And the best part is, nobody will ever get wise. I can become the richest grocer in this city. And just imagine, if I market the food right Joe Greggors' food will become a household name. I could be bigger than Betty Crocker."

"All that remains is my payment."

"What? Oh yeah, the dough. I got it here in this drawer. I've been savin' this for ya'." A sinister grin formed on the man's lips as he reached into his large oak desk at the center of the office and quickly pulled out a revolver, aiming it at his accomplice.

"A double cross? Now, Joe, think this through," Doc smiled with confidence. "What you have there will barely be enough for your produce aisle. It'll be gone in a week. You'll need more of this formula. Hendricks created it but his recipe died with him. Why, with him gone, I'm the only one smart enough to reverse engineer it and make more. You'll need me as a supplier."

"Say, I will at that. So, it looks like you're the brains of this outfit, huh, Doc? And I suppose you want a cut? Alright, how much?"

"I want a partnership. I make the additive. You process it into the food on your shelves. And we sit back and watch the money roll in. I want half."

"Half? Of my store profits? Nothing doing, Doc. No dice!"

"Without me, Joe, you won't see anymore of that precious fluid you hold in your hands. Without me there's nothing. I do half the work, I want half the profit."

"What about a third, Doc?" Joe Greggors put the gun back in the drawer to show he was trying to negotiate.

"That won't cut it. I need more. Forty percent."

"Thirty-five."

"I could agree to thirty-five percent, Joe, provided you pay me once a month. Give me half of that vial. I'll need a sample for research. Give me twenty-four hours to break it down and another twenty-four for processing and I can deliver you with twenty ounces of the stuff. You keep the rest for a trial run."

"Okay, Doc." Joe looked at the glass bottle in the light. "Say, it's got a purple color to it. Is it gonna dye the food?"

"No, Joe. Once the formula oxidizes it will be odorless, colorless and tasteless. You won't even know its there."

"How much is here in this bottle anyway, Doc?"

"That's fifty milliliters, Joe, or nearly two ounces. And if you want more you'll agree to my price. Thirty-five percent of your take monthly and no trouble."

"No trouble, Doc. No trouble at all."

"Then we have a deal." The elderly man extended his hand.

"Oh yes. We have a deal, Doc. And what a swell racket this is gonna be." Joe Greggors laughed as he shook the hand of his new partner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A week later Lenore Case, secretary to Britt Reid, publisher of _The Daily Sentinel_ , Detroit's largest newspaper, was running an errand for Bill Gunnigan, the paper's Editor in Chief. It had been a busy morning and now she was on the hunt for coffee of all things. As she crossed a busy intersection she ambled quickly into the Gray Street Grocery and Market.

"Excuse me, Sir," Lenore, or Casey to her friends, called out to the shop's owner. "Do you have any of that Fresh Roast brand coffee. A colleague of mine sent me down here for some. It's all he drinks you see, and—."

"Say no more, pretty lady. I just got a shipment in last night. Do you want the Dark Roast or the—." Joe Greggors' words were cut off as a crowd of women stormed into the market and chatted boisterously standing over the meat counter.

"It's right here. Why, I tell you Joan, it's the best rump roast I've ever tasted. My husband, John wants me to buy more. We're having it again tonight for dinner. And the vegetables I served with it. My land, you never tasted such sweet carrots or such melt-in-your-mouth potatoes. It was heaven. Why John even spent extra time at the table last night and ate three whole plates," a woman wearing a plain-looking dark blue dress and too much perfume smiled through her teeth in a haughty manner.

"Why, that's nothing, Caroline." another woman spoke up. "I came here yesterday morning to pick up that breakfast cereal that my son, Bobby, loves so much. He ate an entire box in one sitting. The nerve of that boy. I told him a thing or two when I found the empty box in the trash. And he had the nerve to beg for more. Why, he got down on his hands and knees and begged me, like a dog."

"You don't say, Margerie," a third woman holding a very expensive looking purse chimed in. "Why, I'm ashamed to admit it myself , but when I did the family's shopping just a few days ago and I indulged a bit in some of those candies that the kids like. I ate the entire bag. And then I drove all the way back here and bought two more bags in spite of myself."

"Say, that is strange, Patty," the first woman, Caroline, crossed her arms.

"I guess its just a testament to the wonderful foods that get stocked and sold here," the second woman, Margerie, offered.

"You know, I'm not even hungry but I think I'm just gonna do some shopping for myself. Why I may have to just buy a little of everything. It all looks so fresh and mouthwatering. I guess I'm lucky Joe gave me the extra money for the week. I might just spend it all here," Patty, the third lady looked at the loaves of bread wrapped neatly on the counter.

Casey overheard the conversation and, thinking ill of the loud, rude ladies, simply pointed to the Dark Roast variety of coffee behind the counter.

"Very good, ma'am," Joe Greggors smiled at Casey. "Do you want it prepared here or will you be buyin' a whole bag of the stuff?"

"Oh, just give me a cup to go. And you know, I'll take one for myself. Make that two cups to go."

"Give me a moment, ma'am while I put it together. Do you want cream or milk?" Joe Greggors took a bag of cofee beans from the bar and, in an instant, poured them into a large coffee machine.

"Heavy on the cream in one and make my coffee black." Casey ordered as she fiddled in her purse for some money.

A few minutes passed as Casey waited for her coffee. She couldn't help but overhear the boisterous women from before making even more of a fuss over their groceries. By this time the women had journeyed to the other side of the store and were looking with adoration at a group of baked goods. Pies, pastries and cakes were assembled together along a back wall to tempt those customers who posessed a sweet tooth.

Casey's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw a man being rung up on the cash register. A teenage boy named Freddy was loading twenty-two dollars worth of nothing but meat into a cart.

"That sure is a lot of meat, mister," Freddy acknolweged.

"I don't know what's come over me," the tall, well-built man in a tan suit brushed his hand through his well-groomed hair. "I've been just crazy for your chicken lately. And those steaks. My God, I might just take the afternoon off and grill one. Or a few. And maybe a few slabs of bacon while I'm at it."

"Well, enjoy, I guess." The teenaged Freddy gave the man a look of disgust.

As the man paid for his meat and began rolling his shopping cart out to the street the phone rang. Joe Greggors ran to the front of the store and picked up the reciever.

"Gray Street Grocery and Market. This is Joe. How can I help you?"

Joe flashed a look in Casey's direction. "Yeah, she's here. She picked it out for ya' man. I'm brewin' it as sure as we're talkin'. I'll be sendin' her on her way with your brew when it's ready. Thank you, Mr. Gunnigan." As he hung up the phone he motioned for Casey to approach him.

"That was a Mr. Gunnigan. Mighty curious about his coffee. People have no patience these days."

"I guess not," Casey laughed. "Well, waiting for coffee and being out in the city sure beats filing reports."

"Say now, ma'am. Where do you work?"

"I'm a secretary for _The Daily Sentinel_ newspaper."

"Ah, I know it well. Why it's the best and most honest paper in all Detroit. Well, it beats _The Clarion_ anyway." Greggors complimented.

"Thank you, Mr.?"

"Greggors. Call me Joe."

"Well you seem to be doing well in the grocery business. People are coming in all the time, it seems." Casey smiled politely.

"Funniest thing, ma'am. Business picked up just in the last week like you wouldn't believe. Runnin' my poor feet ragged. Ah, your coffee's ready."

The smell of rich coffee filled the small shop as Joe Greggors dispensed the thick brown liquid into two cups. He then poured heavy amounts of cream in one and left the other black as requested.

"Here you are, lady. That'll be twenty cents."

"Thank you, Mr. Greggors. Joe. Have a good day." Casey paid the man and grabbed the hot coffee, giving a final glance to the unruly women at the back of the establishment.

As Casey exited the store she passed a young couple who were arm in arm discussing corned-beef sandwiches. She noticed they also went into the Gray Street Grocery and Market.

 _Is everyone going batty? Why the sudden obsession with food?_ Casey thought to herself. She tried to put it out of her mind as she crossed the busy intersection en route to The Sentinel, trying not to spill the warm plastic cups filled with coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

An hour had passed as Casey sat at her desk in the spacious lobby of _The Daily Sentinel_ explaining to her boss, Britt Reid, reporters Michael Axford and Ed Lowry about her experience at the Gray Street Grocery and Market.

"That is odd, Miss Case," Britt stood next to the door of his office.

"I still think its nothing to write home about, Boss. So some people have big appetites, big deal. And other people have no impulse control when it comes to food. Who are we to judge?" Lowry stood up from a chair in the corner of the room, glancing in a nearby mirror to straigten his tie and brush his dark hair back.

"That's right," Michael Axford stood up from his typewriter that was situated on a small desk opposite Casey's. "Why, I've been known to overindulge in food and drink now and then. Espcially if someone else is flippin' the bill. Ha ha ha," Axford laughed at his usually innocent but lovable humor, his round stomach jiggling.

Suddenly the phone on Casey's desk rang. Casey answered with her customarily professional flare. "Daily Sentinel, Mr. Reid's office. The secretary flashed a look to Axford who ripped the phone from her hands.

"Michael Axford. Well, hello, Sarge." Axford flashed a smile to Britt Reid indicating that the voice on the other end of the line was Seargent Burke, friend to Axford and one of Detroit's most dedicated cops. "What's that you're sayin'? Holy crow, Sarge, that is news. Are you sure? Where? When did it happen? An entire family? Oh those poor devils. I'll tell Reid and meet you down there in half an hour. Thanks, Sarge." Axford hung up the phone and was both bewildered and saddened by the news just delivered to him.

"What is it, Axford?" Britt Reid looked anxious, desperate for the news.

"It seems that last night a family of four, a young couple and their two sons gorged on so much food that they ate themselves to death. The coroner claims that they all suffered from gastric rupture."

"Why I never heard of such a thing, Michael." Casey was disgusted.

"I can't help but think this is somehow related to your time on Gray Street, Miss Case." Britt Reid looked puzzeled. "You come in here with stories of food obsession and then a random family dies from overeating."

"Are you sure that's on the level, Mike?" Ed Lowry raised an eyebrow, suspicious of what he had just heard. "Is it even possible to eat yourself to death? Wouldn't you make yourself sick first?"

"I dunno, Lowry. Why, I'm just repeatin' what the Sarge tells me. Now if you wanna go and make somethin' of it, I—."

"Okay, Axford." Britt calmed the man by putting his hand on the uppity reporter's shoulder. "It sounds like there's a story here. About the family I mean. Lowry, I want you to get on it. Give Gunnigan everything you find. Start now and we can put out an extra edition tonight."

"On it, Boss." Ed Lowry sauntered over to the hat rack, placed his expensive looking brown fedora neatly on his head and hurried out the door.

"Mike, I want you to go down to police headquarters. See if they can trace where that food they were eating came from. Ask Seargent Burke if he can arrange to have the city coroner meet with me. I've got a few questions."

"Okay, Reid. I'll find out all I can." Axford turned for the door before looking back to shoot Casey a wink and a nod. "Be good, Casey. So long." With that he left the office.

"You know, Mr. Reid, that coffee I ordered. It makes me feel strange. It's like I'm craving more. I almost have an urge to just get up from my desk and spring for more. Not that I would, mind you but, it was the most delicious coffee I ever tasted."

"Well, I would advise against drinking anymore of that coffee, until we know more about it of course." Reid cautioned.

"Why it was just Gunnigan's brand. As far as I know he drinks it all the time. Fresh Roast I think its called. And the owner of Gray Street Grocery was such a pleasant man. He called me pretty."

"And you are, Casey. All the same, just be careful."

At Reid's words the door flew open. Bill Gunnigan walked in wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

"I just heard, Mr. Reid. Lowry gave the story. This is one of the most outlandish things to ever happen."

"Glad you're here, Bill. Give me a twelve point headline for the extra. "Family Dies At Dinner Table. What do ya' think?"

"That's fine, Chief. I just came in to see if Casey could run down to the market and get me another coffee."

"Uh uh, Bill. Nothing doing. Casey's staying right here."

"But Chief, Gray Street is the first and only grocer in town that has a coffee bar. And my brand really is the best. I'm dyin' for another cup."

"Exactly, Bill. And haven't you wondered why?"

"What are you talkin' about? I'm thirsty. It really is the best in the city."

"He means your craving is unnatural, Gunnigan." Casey clarified. "I feel it also. It's all I've been able to think about for the last thirty minutes."

"Are you sayin' the coffee may be poisoned, Chief?"

"Maybe. I have a strong suspicion that someone somewhere is tampering with the food supply in this city."

"Well, should we print your suspicions in an editorial?"

"No, Bill. If I'm wrong it would look bad for both the Sentinel and myself. I don't think there is much we can do. At least not yet. I've got Axford and Lowry out digging up all they can. We need more information. We print facts, not theories."

"You don't gotta tell me. I am the managing editor."

"Right. Now get back down there and get me a headline. As soon as Lowry punches up that story on the dead family, run it."

"No coffee then? Okay. Maybe I'll just get some water." Gunnigan left the office hurriedly to make his way back to the City Room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next morning Britt Reid sat at the large oak desk in his office at _The Daily Sentinel_. He was in a meeting which Axford had arranged with Vince Mercer, the city coroner.

"And you say, Mr. Mercer, that what happened to that family is an extremely rare case?"

"More than rare, Mr. Reid. It's next to impossible for most people. Before a rupture of stomach lining, generally there is either vomiting or swelling of the throat occurs to prevent any esophageal damage. But this can cause choking. In some cases nausea followed by loss of conciousness occurs as a result of excess insulin secretion and hormonal shifts." The overweight man adjusted himself in the comfortable leather chair, straightening his white suit as he did so. "While overeating is common, there has to be some kind of mental block or general eating disorder to avoid the built in instincts of satiety. Most of the time the human body is incapable of overeating in any extreme fashion that would pose an immediate health concern." The coroner sat back in the chair and smiled at Britt. "That's not to say that years of overeating isn't bad for us."

"Then what could have possessed these people to eat so much? I mean we put the story out last evening in an extra edition, but I'm afraid my reporter's details were scarce."

"The cause is a mystery, Mr. Reid. That family consumed a combined total of just over twenty-five pounds of food. We recorded the two boys at just over six pounds each, roughly four liters, and the parents ate nearly seven pounds or five liters each. No mean feat given that the stomach is designed to expand by an average of just one liter during any given meal. You see, when we eat, food is partially liquified in preparation for digestion. Our stomachs can normally hold around one to one and a half liters of food and drink comfortably. Most cases of a burst stomach or tearing of the lining come once we've eaten around four to five liters of food."

"So you have no theories then?" Britt was visibly frustrated.

"I don't have a real answer. For that you probably need a neurologist. Something was happening in their minds to trigger some kind of habitual consumption."

"One of my reporter's talked to the police and came in with news just before you came in. The police found that most of the food that was served at that dinner came from the Gray Street Grocery and Market. Could the food have been tampered with? Is there any known chemical or drug perhaps to impede the body's recognition of satiety?" Britt asked the man.

"Not to my knowledge, Mr. Reid. We don't really know what's in our food but food manufacturers aren't out to cause harm, I'm sure."

"Of course not, Mr. Mercer." Britt looked down at a copy of the coroner's report in front of him.

"Anything more I can help you with before I go, Mr. Reid?"

"Well, unfortunately I don't think so. You'll call my office won't you if you can think of anything more that I could use?"

"Sure. I'll do that."

"Thanks for meeting with me. You've been a great help."

"Thank you, Mr. Reid." The coroner rose up from the chair. "Goodbye." He walked to the door, put on his white fedora and left the office.

"Bye, Sir." Reid waved as the man closed the door.

* * *

Hours had passed and Britt Reid was at home with his faithful Philipino valet, Kato. They were eating an early dinner of steaks with roasted potatoes as Britt discussed the murder case with his friend.

"Are we going out tonight then, Mr. Britt? A visit by the Green Hornet to Gray Street Market?"

"I think so. The store closes at seven o'clock. If we show up thirty minutes after closing perhaps everyone but the owner will be gone. Now, the owner is Joe Greggors and according to Casey he is a friendly, generous and pleasant man. Perhaps he's unaware of the tainted food but I have my suspicions. I'll clean up dinner later. C'mon, Kato. It's time to pay a call to Mr. Greggors as The Green Hornet."

The two men got up from the dinner table and rushed from the dining room of the luxurious and expansive apartment house to Britt's bedroom. Slipping through a secret compartment in the rear of Britt's closet, Britt and Kato walked through a long but narrow passageway. This passageway lead to an adjoining building on a dead end side street. Though supposedly abandoned, this building served as the hideout of the notorious The Green Hornet. It stored costumes, equipment and the sleek, super-powered Black Beauty, streamlined car of The Green Hornet.

As the two men entered the hideout, Britt Reid adorned a dark suit, midnight green gloves and wrapped a golden-yellow scarf around his neck, tucking it into his suit. He slipped into a long, dark green overcoat and wrapped a black velvet mask, with a green hornet insignia on it, around his face like some sinister surgeon. He topped the ensemble with a green fedora, matching the color of his overcoat.

Kato dressed himself in a black chauffer's uniform, black gloves, a black domino mask and a chauffer's cap. He then moved to a table and loaded a glass cartridge filled with a mysterious green sleep-gas into a pecuilar looking gun. Handing the gun to Britt, the black-clad man stepped into the passenger seat of The Black Beauty.

Britt put the gun into a gun holster under his suit and entered the driver's seat and pressed a button. The great car roared into life. A photo-electric cell was activated. The wall in front raised automatically, then closed as the gleaming Black Beauty sped into the darkness.

* * *

A long black car with beaming green headlights slowly pulled into an alley near the Gray Street Grocery and Market. Two sinister figures ran from the dark alley to the back of the store. A sliding sheet metal door to the loading dock was partially opened at the bottom. The two figures slid under the dock door and crept inside.

"This must be the storage room, Kato. This is where they unload new shipments of of food," the sinister masked man turned on a small flashlight and pointed it around the room.

Giant freezers filled with meat and ice cream lined the room, along with crates of non-perishable foods and refrigerators filled to the brim with poultry and dairy products. As Kato moved towards a door that lead further into the place, he heard two men talking.

"Not a bad take so far, Joe. But what about that newspaper article?"

"Calm down, Doc. Those clowns at _The Sentinel_ don't know nothin'."

"The additive. What it did to that family. It wasn't supposed to kill anyone. And now the cops are onto us."

"You're paranoid, Doc. They don't know nothin'. Besides, we're tripling our profits. Now do you want your cut or not?"

"I'll take my cut in advance," a deep voice cut through the darkness.

"Who? Who said that?" Joe Greggors eyes bugged out as an imposing figure stepped into the dimly lit room.

"That mask. Joe, that's the Green Hornet! I recognize him. He helped the Feds ruin my company."

"It's nice to see you too, Professor," The Hornet spoke, aiming his gas gun at Greggors. "You're looking well, for a traitor."

"Damn it, Hornet. That wasn't me. That was my assistant. I told you last year. I didn't sell out my country."

"Either way, Barton, that's not why I'm here."

"What gives Hornet? Just why did you come here?" Joe Greggors asked, putting his hands up in surrender.

"I heard about your little operation. Food additives to turn people into addicts. That would increase profits and possibly put other stores out of business. A brilliant plan, until someone died."

"How'd you hear about it? The papers only reported on the death of that family." Barton questioned.

"What does it matter? I know all about it. And if you want your little secret kept quiet you'll cut me in on the deal."

"C'mon, Hornet, how'd you find out? How'd you find us?"

"You really shouldn't leave your dock door unlocked, Greggors."

"So that's it. He was snoopin' around." Greggors looked at Doc Barton. "He didn't know nothin' and he just overheard our conversation. Well, he can't prove anything, Doc."

"You wanna take that chance, Greggors? Test me. See if I don't know where you keep your formula."

"Holy mackerel, Doc. He knows about the locker at your lab."

"I do now! Thanks, Joe." The Green Hornet smiled to himself.

"You stupid dope. He was bluffing. You just told him everything." Doc Barton spewed utter hatred toward his partner.

"So he knows about your lab, Doc. So what? He doesn't know where it is. Besides, the Hornet can't go to the police. He's a wanted man." Joe Greggors was now visibly sweating.

"But I know people. And I'm a real good talker," the Hornet's gun was still trained on Greggors. "Now can we do business, or—."

"Alright, Hornet, so you want a cut. How much to keep you quiet?"

"Forty percent."

"No way! Doc's already got thirty-five percent. I'll give you twenty-five and not a penny more."

"Twenty-five? Throw in the location of your formula and we have a deal."

"What do ya' say, Doc? Do we cut him in?"

"Fine by me, Joe. Okay, Hornet, the formula is in my lab at my estate. I manufacture it in the basement."

"See, that wasn't so hard." The Green Hornet aimed his gun to the floor.

"It's settled then. We're partners. But how do we know if we can we trust you?" Greggors put down his hands.

"You won't have to. Take a whiff of this." The Green Hornet once again aimed his gun at the crooked grocer and pulled the trigger.

"Argh, can't breathe. Gas!" Greggors managed to choke out before dropping like a lead weight to the floor.

"Already a double cross, Hornet? I—." Barton lunged to attack the Hornet but his words were cut off as Kato swiftly bunted the man's kneck from behind him. Barton fell to the floor unconcious.

"Good work, Kato. Tie these men up and use this office telephone to tip off the cops. I'll leave a seal in the front of the store and we can head for Barton's place. We need to destroy every trace of that formula before it taints any more food."

"The food here may already be tainted."

"Good thinking. We should trash this place. Open the freezers and crates. We should destroy or spoil as much food as we can before we leave."

"Right!" Kato went to the storage room and grabbed a large roll of packing tape. He began wrapping the unconcious men up in it.

The Green Hornet moved to the front of the store and left the Hornet seal, a three inch green plastic disk with the Hornet insignia on it, in the front window. He then overturned a nearby table displaying loaves of bread. After that the masked man raced through the small store and knocked pieces of produce to the floor, stepping on them. Grabbing a nearby pushbroom he began batting at baked goods on shelves, sending them crashing all over the place. He moved to the next aisle. Boxes of cereal, crackers, bags of baking flour and cans of soup were all tossed to the floor. The Hornet then grabbed a giant shelf and with a great heave, pushed it over. As it crashed loudly into another shelf, Kato suddenly appeared from the back.

"The men are tied up. I opened all the freezers and crates, leaving food to spoil. I called the police. They're on their way."

"Good. This place is a mess and I left a seal in the front window. It should send a message that The Green Hornet is involved in this racket. Let's get going, Kato, to the Barton place. We've got to get that formula." At those words, the two masked men exited from where they came and disappeared into the alley.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As the Black Beauty streaked along an old highway on the outskirts of the city, a rain storm had robbed the night of its clarity. The Green Hornet and Kato were talking.

"What do you expect to find here besides the formula, Mr. Britt?"

"Kato, I don't know. If you remember sometime last year we heard about Barton's company scandal. Someone at Barton Pharmaceuticals was selling secrets to the Axis powers. We investigated and found that Barton's assistant was in league with Nazis. Barton has maintained his innocence but I don't believe him. How could he work so closely with his assistant and be unaware of the treason? I think Barton was taking a cut of his assistant's profits. I hope to find evidence of that at his home."

"And what of his assistant? He disappeared right?" Kato inquired as the Black Beauty turned into the long driveway that lead to the Barton estate.

"No one knows. _The Sentinel_ followed the case. We published a story that he went into hiding but there were rumors that he was now peddling his poisons to the Soviets since war's end. I had heard conjecture recently that he was back in Detroit, but I wouldn't know where to begin to find him."

As the car pulled up to the main building of the estate, a mansion of considerable size, the masked man and his loyal sidekick got out and raced through the rain to the front door.

"Since Barton's away the place definitely looks empty."

"But its locked up tight. How do we get in?" Kato moved through the rain like a swift jungle cat, looking for an open window or some kind of entrance.

"The window just above that balcony looks partially opened." The Green Hornet glanced up at the second story balcony. "But we need a way to get up there."

With great haste Kato returned to the Black Beauty and opened the trunk. He quickly returned to his friend's side holding a large grappling hook connected to several feet of rope. With a great toss Kato threw the hook towards the house. It connected and tangled itself around the balcony railing. He tugged the wet rope hard to ensure its tense strength.

"Good thinking, my friend. Well, you go first. Be careful. The rain will make it slippery." The Hornet watched as Kato effortlessly grabbed the rope and snaked his body upward along the rope. Once his friend had reached the top, the Hornet followed.

Kato pushed open the window and stepped inside. As the Hornet followed and climbed in he pulled the flashlight from his coat pocket and illuminated the room. It was a mostly empty room with a few boxes strewn about the place. Kato opened a box and saw candles, blankets and old photographs.

"Barton must just be using this room for storage. Let's find that basement. Follow me."

"Right, Mr. Britt," Kato acknowledged as they moved into a grand hallway and treaded hurriedly down the grand staircase of the place.

As they came to a small door just in front of the large kitchen area, the Green Hornet found a lightswitch. The kitchen lit up like a bright candle. He unlocked the door and opened it.

"Well, here we are. Down those stairs is the basement." The Green Hornet aimed his flashlight and descended down the stairs.

Kato followed and reached the bottom of the stairs as the Hornet found a light at the bottom and flipped the switch. A blue light emitted from the ceiling giving the entire laboratory a sapphire glow. As the two masked men walked into the lab they saw empty beakers and flasks sitting on a large table in the center of the room. Glass containers filled with every color of fluid were labeled with various letters of the alphabet.

A row of small lockers were stacked on top of each other along the far wall. The Hornet moved to each locker and opened them. The formula appeared to be in various stages of completion. Flasks and beakers of red and blue liquid were marked as "stage one" and "stage two." Another locker showed the purple fluid in its apparent final stage.

"What do we do, Mr. Britt?" Kato asked as he looked at all of the experiments on the table.

"There's a sink in the far corner of the room. Dump everything you see. And I mean everything. When we leave here no trace of this stuff should be left."

Kato grabbed a few containers from the table and moved to the sink where he began dumping each of the liquids down the drain. First was a thin milky liquid, followed by a thick viscous brown liquid resembling motor oil. He then deposited a bright red liquid and jumped back as a small explosion occurred. Flames shot up from the drain like a geyser from Hell. Suddenly the entire far corner of the lab was engulfed in a raging fire.

"Kato, what happened?"

"Perhaps we should have been more careful. I mixed chemicals. I wasn't thinking."

"Never mind. The whole place is gonna go up. We've got to get out of here."

The Green Hornet raced to the stairs and trodded upward. Kato followed. As they reached the top of the basement steps a loud explosion was heard. The masked men could feel the heat rising from below. They charged from the basement door to the front door of the expansive house, unlocked it and bolted outside, racing to the Black Beauty.

As they entered the car itroared into life. A reddish-orange flare could be seen through the windows. The place was becoming completely immersed in hot flame. The car shot off like a bullet and sped across the long driveway into the darkness and out of sight.

* * *

The following morning Britt Reid was in the lobby of his office at the newspaper with Michael Axford, Lenore Case and Ed Lowry. They were listening to Axford relay the news that he had gotten from police headquarters.

"And it turns out that The Green Hornet was involved with those crooks all along. Reid, the cops found a hornet seal at the grocery on Gray Street and the crooks tied up in the back. Sargeant Burke said that the Hornet tipped the cops off about the place and that when they got there it looked like a tornado had come through."

"The Hornet must've figured those crooks were double crossing him or he wouldn't have tipped the police." Reid suggested.

"Sure. That's my way of thinkin' too, Reid." Axford acknowledged with a smile.

"And what of the old Barton place, Mike? You mentioned earlier that it burned down?" Ed Lowry was taking notes on a pad of paper.

"Well, when they questioned Barton and that grocer, Barton said he thought the Hornet would go out there to destroy evidence."

"They think it was the Hornet that committed the arson?" Casey's interest was peaked.

"Sure, on account of the Hornet felt double crossed by the other crooks and he went out there to take his revenge, I'll bet." Axford smiled. "Oh, what a rascal that Hornet is."

"It's strange that Doc Barton would be involved in a racket at all considering all he went through last year." Casey offered.

"Agreed, Casey. And whatever became of that scandal anyhow? I mean I know he was acquitted but—."

"You mean did they ever prove he was actually a spy, Lowry? Sarge says they searched his place this mornin' for anythin' more on the matter but didn't find nothin' conclusive. But they're still lookin'. It's a big place you know."

"Well, those crooks oughta be sent up the river for a good long while since the grocer admitted that his formula was responsible for what happened with that family."

"I don't know 'bout that Lowry. You see, they made a deal with those crooks to get a reduced sentence if they admitted to everything. And by the way, that brings to mind the fact that Barton confessed to killin' his assistant, the one that was implicated as a spy in that scandal last year."

"Really, Mike?" Britt was surprised. "Did they find his body?"

"Sure. The man's body was found in the abandoned factory of Barton Pharmaceuticals. And Barton was more than willin' to sing to the cops. The state was tryin' for the chair but now, only time will tell what happens to 'em." Axford smiled at the satisafaction that this racket was busted wide open.

"You don't think that The Green Hornet would ever admit anything if he were caught, do you, Mr. Reid?"

"Oh, I don't know, Miss Case. I guess he'd have to be caught first." Britt Reid smiled.

"Sure. And that'll never happen. That devil's too smart for us all, Reid." Axford waved his finger at Reid. "Why, if he were here, right now, I bet we wouldn't even recognize him." Axford went to the hat rack and grabbed his bowler hat. "Be seein' ya' all. Goin' down to cops headquarters to see 'bout more news." Axford put on his hat and trampled out of the office.

"I'm off too, gang!" Lowry grabbed his dark fedora from the rack. "Gonna go see Gunnigan."

As Lowry tipped his hat to them and left the office, Miss Case smiled at Britt.

"Axford's right you know, Mr. Reid. If the Hornet was here, why I bet we wouldn't even know it."

"You're right of course, Miss Case. He'd probably be right under our noses." Britt smiled before walking into his office and closing the door.


End file.
